Picking Up the Pieces
by Palaven Blues
Summary: After the final battle of the Reaper War, Jack and Garrus have been left behind. Language warning: Jack is in it. Also, some smut.
1. Putting the Fun in Funeral

Shit, why her? I take my turn at the coffin and look down at the surface. No body, so closed casket. Even if they'd found her, it probably would've still been a closed casket. I wonder if the Reapers even left a body. Wonder how Spikes is holding up. This is the second time he's had to do this, isn't it?

I look around, trying to find anything to stare at other than that stupid empty box, and see the big turian sitting at the back. Why did it have to be _her?_ It could have been almost anyone else in the galaxy. I weave through the crowds, trying to get to Spik- uh, Garrus.

"Hey," I tell him, kicking lightly at his boot. He looks up slowly, and for a moment I feel like Shepard must have always felt, 'cause even though I'm not Garrus, I want to make him feel better. What the fuck has Shepard done to me?

"Jack," he says finally.

I want to recoil when his breath hits me; it smells like he's drunk the whole distillery. Again, that Shepard-urge, the need to fix him up, make him better. The way she always did. Not that she was so obvious about it. Last time I was going to get my fix, she didn't try to stop me. Didn't threaten to kick me off the crew; just stared at me. Shit, she gave me the money when I told her I was busted. And then she just stared at me and I couldn't do it. Couldn't disappoint her.

From the looks of Garrus, she'd be disappointed now.

"Come on," I tell him, yanking him to his feet.

"No, I'm staying," he whines. Fuck, he sounds like a little pussybitch. I could let him. Let him go pay his respects and puke on the corpse. Or lacking that, just drag him out with my biotics. Instead I try to figure out how Shepard would handle this.

"Let's go, man. She'd be ashamed to see you like this." I say it gently, but I can tell it hit, so I'm expecting it when he lashes back.

"You don't understand, you never loved her."

Even expecting that, it cuts deep, and I'm seconds away from crying. Punching the shit out of him would help. Shepard can't see us anymore, anyway. Why the fuck not?

"Let's go get you a shower," I tell him, still pulling him away. His arm goes around my shoulder and I have to use my biotics to keep his weight from dragging me to the ground. I get him out, though, and into a cab. I climb in with him. He can't get his address slurred out to the driver, so I give mine, instead. No liquor at my place, so that'll help him, anyway.

He's just as heavy when I'm trying to pull him out of the cab, although once I've gotten him upstairs and into the shower, the cold wakes him up some. He shouts and tries to get out, but I push him back gently with a surge of my implants. My varren Eezo pants at my feet, wondering what new toy I've brought home.

"Get cleaned up, first," I tell Garrus. To Eezo I add, "Not for you."

"Why are you doing this?" Garrus asks, and his tone is everything I can't let out. Because I wasn't the one who loved her, as he'd already reminded me.

"You can get cleaned up, or you can argue with me."

"Give me some privacy," he demands, so I do. Drunk or not, grieving or not, I know he won't lie to get out of there, so I leave him.

I step high, trying not to put my feet down on excitable varren running around, and pull some crap out of the fridge and try to remember my foolproof hangover cure, then put it all back. _Turian, duh._ He can't drink anything in here.

"Hey, Garrus, who delivers here?" I shout.

"…what?"

"_Food_!"

I can't hear his answer, but a quick browse on the omni-tool shows a place that delivers levo and dextro; before he's even out of the shower, the food's here.

"I'm not hungry," he says petulantly and now I'm just itching to smack him.

I take off my jacket to give my hands something to do, catching it on my new stupid arm, like always.

"You lost your arm?" he asks, finally noticing something outside of himself. Shit. I don't want to talk about it, but it's the first thing he's said without the I'm-going-to-kill-myself undertone.

"Yeah. Final battle."

"How?"

_Soldiers and their war-stories._ I roll my eyes a little, but it's not a bad story. I flex my left hand, listening to the servos as it moves.

"I was protecting my kids. They'd been doing good, but we got pinned. Lost almost everyone around us. Just me and them, huddled down, waiting for it to be over so we could get picked up." My right hand drifts down from the table and Eezo slams his head into it so I can pet him while I talk.

"Then what?" Garrus was reaching out absently to start picking at his food. Good for him.

"Well, then a Reaper showed up. I tried a barrier, but he just kept plugging away at it. Eventually he was going to get through." I speak slowly, making sure he keeps eating. He really looks like he needs a good meal.

"And?"

"And … I just got angry. I mean, here they all were, just huddled around me, exhausted. They wouldn't have been able to run. So I turned up the heat and hit him with a solid blast. Took a while to burn through his shields and meanwhile, the force of it's eating right through my arm. Hurt like a _bitch." _ It really had. An echo of that pain runs down the replacement arm. I'd never felt anything like it, not even when Cerberus was doing all their experiments on me. "And before Shepard, I would've just run and left them all."

Garrus stops eating and I have to think about what I'd just said. _Shit, shit, shit. _

"I didn't – I mean, that's not –"

"I'm sorry I said you didn't love her," he says quietly.

I've grabbed my noodles now and am shoveling them into my mouth as fast as I can. I'm allowed, I'm biotic. "Shut up," I growl.

"Come on, let's go," he tells me.

"Where?" I try to keep ahold of my pork lo mein as he starts ushering me to the door. Eezo follows, hoping that I'll drop my food while being dragged backward.

"We tried your way. Your way sucks. We're going out to get drunk, like we should."

"Dude, you have a problem." I'm trying to resist, I really am, but the idea is so attractive.

"We can get sober tomorrow," he promises.

Sober tomorrow. Oh, I remember that lie. Used to tell it every day. Still. She's gone. No matter what we do, she can't see us. It seems like the best option.

"Aright, quite pulling." I dump the rest of my food into my mouth, cheeks like a chipmunk, and grab my jacket again before following him out the door. Last thing I do is drop the container on the ground for Eezo and mumble at him to "be good."

#

"So I basically just stood there and let it hit me," Garrus says, laughing. He's halfway through his third or fourth bottle of something, and so far, I've kept up. Shit, it's hard to outdrink a turian, though.

I laugh, too, and have to adjust quickly to keep from falling off my barstool. "No, you didn't, Spikes. You did not just take a missile to the face because it _might've _been headed for Red."

"I did! How did you think I got these?" he asks, gesturing to the scarred side of his face. "It's awful. No one can even look at them, except for … for Shep." The laughter was gone from his voice suddenly.

Oh, shit, and there it is again, and I just want to make him feel better. Again I wonder what the fuck Shepard did to me. I reach over to touch his scars, and it's awkward, I have to use the wrong hand, and shit, am I touching his face?

I pull back, but he grabs my wrist, and somehow, he's pulled me off my barstool into his lap, and oh, _shit_ did that woman teach him how to kiss.

I don't even know how we make it back to his apartment. I'm half out of my shirt and his is off completely, he's pressing me up against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist.

"You're not as drunk as I thought," I slur.

Garrus stops, then. "I … I'm sorry. Let's just –"

He tries to pull away, but I keep my legs locked around him. "Don't you dare stop. Come back here, Garrus." And he does, and it's so good, but God, I miss her, and when it's done and he whispers, "Shepard," I can't help it anymore, I'm crying. I get to the bathroom before he can hear me, and I'm just sobbing like a little bitch, running the water to try to drown the sound out.

"Jack?" he asks, knocking on the door. "Jack, are you okay in there?"

"Fine," I manage. Fuck, fine. I was fine before I knew Shepard. Why the fuck did it have to be her?


	2. Jackass

_Hey, folks. Some minor changes to Chapter One- you'll probably pick up on who was left out, originally. Pieces is on the schedule for Mondays, so it shoudl get a chapter every other Monday, if not every one._

* * *

_Oh, I am such a jackass._ The moment we're done, Jack is scrambling out of my arms, eyes wet, and I have to replay the last few minutes to figure out what I've done wrong. Shepard, it's always Shepard. _Did I actually say her name out loud?_

_Well, Jack has fled to the bathroom crying, so I'd guess that's a big "yes," dumbass._

I sigh heavily and rub a hand across my eyes. I hadn't meant to. She was just so human, so soft, that for a minute I got lost.

_Lie to her if you want, but don't lie to yourself. You wouldn't have forgotten if it was Liara or Tali. You picked her because you _could_ forget with her._

Yes, there's that. If I close my eyes, she could almost be Shepard. Jack's much smaller, of course, Jack doesn't have quite the … build that Shepard had. My mandibles tuck tight as I realize how bad I've fucked up.

_It's not my fault! Jack is supposed to be immoveable. She shouldn't have cared._

_That's a chicken-shit excuse and you know it. _I try to ignore the twinge of pain at using one of Shep's phrases and plod toward the bathroom door. I feel somehow as though I'm going to my own execution, but I know I'm not. If Jack were angry she wouldn't have run for the bathroom, just kicked my ass six ways to Sunday and called it good. _Stop using her godda— Spirits-damned phrases._

"Jack?" I ask, tapping on the door. "Jack, are you okay in there?" I feel like shit. She was maybe the only person who could really understand what it meant for me to lose Shep, and instead of talking with her and supporting each other, I tried to bury my grief by pretending she could be her.

"Jack?" I ask again. My heart grows cold as I realize I can't hear her crying over the water any longer. She wouldn't have hurt herself, would she? She was always a little unstable ….

"Jack!" I shout, banging on the door now. Abruptly the water shuts off and the door is yanked open, and she's standing there, the vengeful little sprite I was used to, except nakeder.

"Keep your panties on, Spikes. I had to get cleaned up." She brushes by, shoulder-checking me just a little.

All I can do is gape. How does she do that? A moment ago she was wailing, and now all I can see is her normal uncaring self-possession. "Jack, are you all right?"

Jack pulls her "shirt" on, adjusting the straps and bands so that she's street-legal again. "Yeah, I'm good. Forgot how rough turians are. Don't worry about it, though. Not really injured." She stands there looking at me, in just her shirt, bare from the waist down. I realize suddenly that she's just as beautiful as Shep, in her own way. She has the same strength Shepard had except Jack's turned all her pain into art on her skin, instead of headaches and nightmares like Shep had.

"Jack, stay." I'm not sure why I'm asking. Do I want a replacement Shep to lie next to me, allowing me to finally get some sleep with the slow, deep breaths of a human beside me again? Or am I trying to undo the hurt I cause this specific human woman?

She snorts a little, grabbing her pants. "Nah, I'm cool, Spikes. I sleep better in my own bed. I'll catch you around sometime."

_Sometime?_ With a lurch, I realize she's blowing me off. If I let her leave, I won't see her again. I know some of it is mixed up with the loss of Shepard, but the thought of not seeing Jack ever again is too painful to contemplate. I go to her and put my hands around her narrow waist. I stumble over potential words, remembering just how bad at this I am, how Shepard always had to help me when I had to say something important. "Jack, please don't go." I know the words are inadequate the moment they leave my mouth.

Jack is very still, looking up at me, hands still holding her open pants up. A dozen expressions that I can't read cross her face, until finally her neutral one washes over her and she nods at me. "Aright, Spikes. But I sleep naked and I'm a blanket hog. Good luck with that." She shrugs out of my arms and lets her pants fall back to the ground.

I find myself smiling despite myself. "You've clearly never fought a turian for the blankets. You can't win this battle."

"Oh, yes I can," she insists. Her chin raises in challenge, and for a moment she looks so much like Shepard that I almost start keening. I try to ignore it, instead watching as her small breasts are freed from that barely-there shirt. "I fight dirty, Spikes."

She's calling me "Spikes" again, and I wonder if I can earn back the right to her calling me "Garrus." I probably don't deserve it. She gave me a chance, and I called her "Shepard."

"Come to bed?" I ask.

She nods and leads the way into the bedroom. I follow, trying to work the rest of my civilian clothes off as I walk. I hate civilian clothes; haven't worn them in years. I was so used to my armor, just hit the releases here, here, and here, then reach for Shepard's breastplate –

_Stop it, you asshole._

Jack's already in bed, lying dead-center but sprawled so as to take up all the space.

"No, you don't," I tell her, playfully pushing her so I have enough room to lie down. She pushes back, but instead of fighting, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close and nuzzling at the back of her neck.

She stiffens in my arms, and I wonder what I've done wrong now. "Jack, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she snaps.

If I were human, I'd believe the tone, but I'm not. I can hear the waver in her voice that she's trying to hide from me.

"Just can't fall asleep with someone touching me, that's all."

"Oh." I slide back a little ways, giving her the room, trying not to be hurt. I want to ask her how she's doing. I want to talk to her. I want to trace the painted lines all over her skin, and have her tell me the story behind each one. But her breathing evens out all too soon, and a moment later I'm following her into sleep, the first good sleep I've had since Shepard was reported MIA.

#

I dream I'm burning. It's the batarians. Shepard used to tell me about her nightmares; apparently they're communicable, because the batarians have Shepard somewhere in a cage. I'm on fire and bound and if I don't break free, I can't save her, she'll die again, and –

I wake with a shuddering gasp to find that at least part of the nightmare is real. Jack has moved in the night and now has me pinned with her feather-weight and is putting off enough heat to roast a _pri'alka_. Spirits, she's hot. I don't want to wake her but I'm going to boil alive in my plates if I don't move her.

_Tough it out, spineless._ Yes, tough it out. She probably needs the sleep as badly as you do, so it doesn't matter if your brain boils away and your eyes melt inside your skull and your skin blackens and crisps until it'll just slide off at the slightest touch. Let her sleep.

But then I notice that her breathing, which was smooth and easy when I woke, is now ragged and desperate. She's muttering something under her breath but I can't quite parse it through the sleep-talk.

"Jack." I shake her shoulder gently, hoping to wake her without frightening her further. "Jack, honey, wake up."

Chocolate eyes flash open, no recognition in them. A split second later, a steel hand is locked around my throat as she straddles me, charging up her biotics. If she decides to punch me, her fist will likely go straight through my face.

_Why not let her?_

_She'll feel bad about it later._

"Jack, it's me," I gasp. "It's Spikes."

"Spikes?" Her eyes are still unfocused but at least she's hesitating. I consider the merits of either throwing her off me or waiting for her to wake up the rest of the way. I decide to wait; I don't want to have to fight her while she's still effectively unconscious.

She's blinking a little bit now, confusion plain in her features. "Oh, shit, man," she yells, finally releasing my throat. She hops off of me and starts pacing.

I fight the urge to massage my throat, make sure I'm not damaged. She might read that the wrong way. "Don't worry about it, Jack, I'm tougher than I look." I throw a grin at her, but she doesn't see it.

She just keeps pacing, muscles twitching and rippling under the skin, making her tattoos dance a little. She stops suddenly, staring at the ground. "I really didn't hurt you?" she asks the floor.

"No, hardly at all," I lie. I slide out of bed and go over to her. Once again, I wrap my arms around her lithe form, pulling her close. I bend down to kiss her, to try to tell her I'm not mad and I don't want her upset.

She interrupts before I make contact. "I gotta go, Spikes."

"What? Why? It's the middle of the night." She can't go. If she goes, I have to go back to bed alone, the empty space taunting me all night with memories of Shep.

"I know, but Eezo's used to eating at night."

"Eezo?" I wonder briefly if the fever took her brain.

"Yes, my varren. You met him last night."

I try to piece together last night, but everything before we got back here is a blur.

Jack laughs a little, shaking her head. "Dude, you must have been smashed. I gotta go, though." She pulls away from my arms, heading into the living room to gather her clothes.

_Please don't go,_ I think, but I know she will. She's already decided. "Jack." I hold her arm gently, not letting her slip out the door quite yet.

She looks up at me, her face a blank. She could be hopeful, or expectant, or ready to murder me, and I wouldn't be able to tell from her face.

"Come back tomorrow night?" I ask. "We can get a vid and eat some pizzas or something." I wait, dying, while she considers, still with that look on her face that tells me nothing.

She nods, slowly, as if unsure. "Yeah, okay. But I gotta go now. Eezo's probably eating the couch by now."

I try again to kiss her, but she's already flitted away, halfway down the hall and looking like she's trying to run away.

"I expect to see holos of that varren, or I'll know you're lying!" I call out to her.

She doesn't answer, but she does wave at me without turning around.

Once she's gone, I go back inside. I can feel Shep's ghost everywhere, now. I imagine she's giving me her Look, tapping her foot and waiting for an explanation. Normally, I would stammer and stutter, trying to explain everything, anything that would let me off the hook.

"You're dead," I say simply, and some of the guilty feeling goes away. I settle into the couch, cursing another long night spent watching nothing on TV, but thankful for the few peaceful hours I had with Jack. Sometime after the first nonsense show ends and the second show I'm also not watching begins, my omnitool pings; new mail. I open it to see a holo of Jack with her arms wrapped around a grinning varren. I chuckle and tell it to save the picture; that's one I'll want to keep.


	3. Morning After

Sorry, this one's a bit short. Mostly because the full version can't go up here. If you're an adult and interested, the full-smut version is up on my AO3, link on the profile.

* * *

I wake up hungover and pissed and for a minute I forget when I am. I always used to wake up like this. Forgot how much it sucked. Then Eezo pants into my face, breath redolent of dead fish and garbage dumps and I roll away, gagging.

"Oh, you fucking whoredog. What have you been eating?" I cough, knowing that it won't clear the smell. At least I know when I am now. I sit up too quickly and have to hold my head from splitting apart. What the fuck happened last night?

_Garrus. Half-assed drinking contest._ Oh, right. I went out with Spikes after the funeral, and –

Shit, I'd forgotten. I want to call him, 'cause he's done this before, and ask; how fucking long before you stop forgetting she's dead? I don't, though. I think I'm afraid of the answer. I climb out of bed, cursing myself for not remembering to take my Good Morning drink last night; it would've prevented waking up feeling like this. I stumble toward the kitchen, intending to fix that. An hour or so, and I wouldn't feel like I washed up on some beach somewhere.

"Eezo, move," I grumble. He's been getting a lot better lately. Friendly, really. Dumb mutt.

He moves enough for me to walk and that's it, staring at me as I slice a banana into a glass of chocolate milk, throwing some ginseng and aspirin into my mouth before bolting my half-ass milkshake. It's always a struggle to keep milk and chocolate down the morning after, but it fucking works. After that, it's just a quick stumble into bathroom before I can collapse on my ratty couch, closing my eyes against the cruel morning sunlight.

What the fuck am I supposed to do today? Grissom's shut down for the time being. At least there's a decent pension plan for war heroes, but it doesn't do shit to fill up my days. I let my new robot arm clench, focusing on the feel of it. It still needs some getting used to. I don't feel like watching anything. Clench, unclench. Don't feel like reading anything. Clench, unclench. Shepard's much too fresh in my mind to write poetry about. Clench, unclench, clench.

Can't really remember what I used to do. Before Shep— before Reapers, god damn it. I should steal a ship. Steal a ship, score something nice to play with, lie on the floor of my new ship while I let it navigate itself in circles. Come back when my supply is gone.

My omni-tool pings and I check it, eyes a little blurry.

_Jack-_

_Good morning, Sunshine. Still on for pizza tonight? I can pick up something for Eezo, too, if you wanted to spend the whole night._

_-Spikes_

I snort laughter then moan as the pain in my head flares, wiping out all thought. Shitfuck, how much did I drink?

_Never try to outdrink that psycho again, _I tell myself. It's not worth it. _"Sunshine," _I think again, and the laughter bubbling up threatens to break my skull open. Well, spending the night with Spikes is better than staying here, moping after my old commander. Might be good for him, too. He's not doing too good. I type out my reply, committing to an evening and staying the night, two things I've learned not to do.

_Hey, fucker_

_I'll be there at seven. Get something good for Eezo, too, he won't eat that pet store shit._

_P.S. Fucking Sunshine, are you kidding me?_

The vitamins in the milk and banana are starting to work, so it's time to drag myself through the shower, get some of the whiskey stink out of my pores. The hot water hits me like a benediction. Fuck, it's good. _When's the last time I fucked in a shower? _I wonder, deciding I'll have to convince Spikes on that one later.

_How far ahead are you planning, asshole?_

"I'm not," I mutter, twisting the faucet hard to turn the water off, nearly breaking it with the new hand that's still only half-educated. Not planning shit. I'll show up at Spikes's place tonight if I feel like it. I'll get laid, maybe, then crash if I want. That's it.

I towel-dry quickly, pulling my hair back off to show the tattoos on my head. I'll get dressed in a bit. For now, I just want to liey down and doze until I can get some food in me. The omni-tool pings again before I crash.

_Jack-_

_No worries, I'll get him the good stuff. See you tonight._

_-Spikes_

_P.S. Why not "Sunshine?" It suits you, don't you think?_

"Asshole," I mutter, trying not to smile. _He must be used to teasing Shepard, _I realize, feeling the smile drain away. Well, fuck. Doesn't matter. Turian dick feels the same whether it's sad or not. I grab the throw blanket, a deep blue that I think Spikes would like, too, before falling asleep again.

#

I show up late, carrying some shitty, girly, dual-chirality drinks and with Eezo sitting by my feet. Hands full, I can only kick the door.

Spikes opens it immediately, as if he was waiting on the other side of it. His mandibles spread wide.

"Oh, good. Thought you'd changed your mind." He takes the drinks from me. "These are … an interesting choice."

"Not much to choose from for both of us. Plus after last night, figured you'd be off the hard stuff." I manage to avoid telling him that I'm late because I had a moment of panic about what to wear here. Like a fucking _girl._

"Spirits, yes. Remind me not to match you for drinks again."

I smirk. "You sure, Spikes? I could go again, if you want." I bend to unhook Eezo's collar and I can feel his eyes on my tits, almost falling out of the green tank top I finally threw on.

"We could go again," he says, and I grin at him. He turns quickly to set the drinks down in the kitchen and I follow him, hopping up on the counter lightly.

"Pizza'a on its way," he tells me, reaching into the fridge. "And I have this for Eezo." He pulls out a package in butcher paper and hands it to me, a two-inch thick steak marbled with fat.

"Oh, that'll work. I can just sear it a little –"

"I've got it." Spikes takes the steak back from me, throwing it down in a pan. I nab one of the drinks, some wine cooler shit I don't want. But I need something else to do besides watch him.

_I wonder if Shepard cooks. Cooked. Damn it._

"Figured we'd watch a vid. Got a couple different ones. What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything that's not girly," I tell him.

"So, no _Vaenia?"_ he asks, tipping on mandible up in a smile.

The bottle stops on its way to my mouth. The love story between two women would not have been high on my list even if Shepard hadn't just kicked it.

Spikes realizes what he's said almost immediately. "Or, I picked up _Starless._ That one was pretty good. Horror."

"That'll work." The bottle completes its path, resting on my lips, clinking lightly against my teeth, pouring its stupid, inadequate payload into my mouth. Fuck, I wish I'd brought real liquor. The door chimes and I hop down before he can say anything.

"I got it." I'm nearly running out of the kitchen to let the pizza guy in. Let's just pretend I'm not trying to get away from Shepard, who's clearly part of every conversation.

I consider flipping the delivery guy off in lieu of a tip, but it isn't my name on the order, so I just hand over some credits. Then Spikes brings the drinks in, sets the steak on a plate on the floor, and we settle in to eat pizza and watch the vid.

For the ten millionth time, I'm thinking we should have had real drinks. Spikes keeps clearing his throat to say something, then changing his mind. I don't think he's even watching the movie. I'm sure as hell not.

He clears hit throat again and I'm ready to start screaming. Just spit it out already, man.

"The last time Shepard and I –"

_Oh, fuck, no._ I climb into his lap, straddling him, and stop his talking with a series of bites to the throat. Just because Shepard's there, doesn't mean we have to fucking talk about her all night. Spikes is growling now, his talons digging into my ass, and this is what I fucking needed.

_Next time, bring drinks. Gets here faster with drinks._ The clothes come off quickly, leaving me naked and grinding into him.

He runs his tongue up my jawline, then pulls my ear lobe into a gentle nibble.

"Jack," he rumbles, and that's right. You couldn't have fucking managed that last night? Then I lose myself as he's buried in me and I start moving, grinding against him, both of us searching for that moment where we can forget.

#

It's over too soon, but turians aren't known for endurance for nothing. He carries me to the bed for round two and he actually manages to exhaust me. He collapses on top of me when he's done, talons running through the little bit of hair I let grow out. Unbidden, my hand starts to stroke along his cowl. Fucking _gently,_ what the fuck is wrong with me? He's a poor replacement for Shepard.

I catch a trace of what he's whispering and push him off of me. He's a _really_ poor replacement when he can't stop muttering her name under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he pleads. His hands try to pet me, soothe me, but it doesn't do any good. I don't give a fuck he's really with her. I just wish I could be, too.


End file.
